


preserve the self

by peachsneakers



Series: preservation of the self [7]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Deceit is a sad slimy boi, Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Morally Neutral Deceit Sanders, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, someone save him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-06-24 14:05:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 15,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19725187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachsneakers/pseuds/peachsneakers
Summary: Who's there to help Deceit?





	1. alone is a five letter word

**Author's Note:**

> i got hit with a massive burst of inspiration, writing the other stories in the series, and i hope that burst continues writing this.

He can hear their laughter from outside his door.

He planned it that way on purpose.

Deceit looks up dully from the nest of blankets he's huddled in, watching the screen where all of Thomas's actions play out. He knows he should care, but he just...can't.

_How ironic,_ he scoffs to himself. _So desperate to prove yourself to the others, so thirsty for recognition, for attention- So desperate to help, and yet when you need help, where are they? Oh, that's right! Nowhere near_ you _!_

He conveniently ignores the fact that his door isn't visible to anyone on that side, not unless they're very, very determined. _Maybe_ Virgil could find it, if he truly wished to.

But why would he wish to? Deceit may have apologized (and meant it), but that doesn't mean Virgil's past isn't still outed. He shouldn't have poked fun and he knows that _now_ , but that kind of humor was always fine before-

But that's the thing, isn't it. Before. When Virgil was a Dark Side. Virgil's not Dark anymore and Deceit knows _he_ is. He must be. Look at the others' reactions. Fear. Anger. Disgust. _Hatred_. Perhaps they have dulled a bit since he's taken on the role of attempting to protect them from themselves (not that he had a choice with Roman, summoning him every five minutes, it felt like). But he'll still never _belong_. He's just a _liar_ , that's all. A snake-faced liar and they don't even understand why his scales exist in the first place, how a new scale shimmers into painful place with every time his function becomes a _necessity._ He doesn't _want_ to be a liar all the time. That's not what his role _is_. 

It doesn't matter, though. Deceit burrows deeper into the blankets, trying to pretend the chill in the air hasn't seeped into his very bones. It doesn't help that he's become cold-blooded, as a side effect of whatever decided he needed to become part reptile to further horrify the other people he shared a head with. Not that he _dislikes_ snakes. He doesn't. He quite likes them. But most people don't. He's still impressed that Virgil has kept his pet spider, especially with Patton's arachnophobia.

Apathy dulls his brain once more until all he can do is stare, unblinking, at the screen. He can't tell what Thomas is doing. He's not sure that he cares. A splinter of alarm goes through him, fracturing a minuscule piece of the apathy that has shrouded him. No, that's not right. He _must_ care. That's his- That's his whole _deal_ , he-

_He'd be better off without you,_ a voice whispers in his mind. Deceit sighs.

_Lies,_ he hisses back. The thought, lie or not, persists.

And he can't help but wonder if there's a way to make it true.

Almost as if on autopilot, his ungloved hands wander along the outsides of each arm, claws digging into the skin, drawing tiny pinpricks of blood to the surface. It stings, but not enough to give Deceit any kind of actual relief. He wonders what kind of horror and disgust would flash across the others' faces if they saw his hands. His claws. How his skin is almost entirely smooth scales up his wrists. 

_It's not my fault,_ he wants to shout, but he knows that's a lie. Of course it's his fault. He's _Deceit_ , for fuck sake.

_Self preservation is not a bad thing!_ He rails, somewhere deep in his own mind. His claws tighten, digging even deeper into his arms. More blood wells to the surface. He doesn't notice. It doesn't matter. None of it matters.

He's just as Dark as he always has been, and that's the truth.

_Falsehood._

Unbeknownst to him, a corridor in the main area slowly forms, leading straight to his door.


	2. something's wrong

Virgil notices first. It's not surprising. The new corridor is right next to his room, after all. The familiar gold and black design swirled over the door at the far end makes panic well up, deep in his stomach.

 _What happened?_ He thinks, rocking back and forth on his feet, his hands clutching the excess fabric of his hoodie sleeves. His cuts from the other night still sting, but they're a muted pain, barely on his mind.

Deceit helped him. Deceit told the _truth_ to him. Virgil's known the other side long enough to know when he's telling the truth and when he's not. Little side effect of being a Dark Side, even if it is in the past. 

But _Deceit_... He's not... He _couldn't_...

"Hey, kiddo, what's wrong?" Patton asks, coming up. He looks concerned. His eyes widen behind his glasses at the sight of the new corridor. "Is that-"

"It's Deceit's room," Virgil interrupts. "Yeah." His shoulders hunch. The door remains resolutely shut, but why? Is this some new trick?

"We can see it now?" Patton blinks in surprise.

"I guess," Virgil says. "But- I don't-"

"Maybe it's because Thomas knows about him now?" Patton suggests, accidentally interrupting Virgil. Virgil shrugs. He doesn't think that's it. After all, _Remus_ doesn't have a bedroom out here, now does he? (Thank fuck for that. Despite Logan helping out with intrusive thoughts, Virgil still doesn't want to hang out with the Duke any time soon.) Then again, maybe he does through Roman's room. It's not like Virgil ventures in there. What a terrible idea that would be, having his imagination amplified. _He_ , of all people, should avoid that at all costs.

"Unlikely," Logan says, coming up with coffee cup in hand as he straightens his tie with the other. Virgil has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Thomas has known about him for over a year. If he were to be connected to this part of the mind because of Thomas's new self-awareness, then he most likely would have done so last year."

"Maybe it takes a while?" Patton guesses. Virgil stifles a laugh.

"Why are you all gathered round Sir Mopes a Lot's room?" Roman asks from behind them, making Virgil jump. He scowls.

"Now, Roman, you know you're supposed to be nice to Virgil," Patton admonishes. 

"I was merely stating a fact," Roman defends himself. "He _does_ mope a lot."

"I'm Anxiety, what do you want me to do, _frolic_?" Virgil sneers. "And we're all here because of _that_." He gestures dramatically at Deceit's door. Roman peers at it blankly.

"What's that?" He asks.

"It's Deceit's room," Virgil explains sharply. Roman gasps.

"That fiend!" He proclaims. "How dare he show his face around-"

"He hasn't shown any part of himself outside of his room at the moment actually," Logan interrupts, stopping Roman's fanciful tirade before he can properly get going. "We are all curious as to why his room is now available however. Is Remus's?"

"No..." Roman prevaricates, his eyes shifting from side to side.

"That sounds suspiciously like a statement that _will_ summon Deceit," Virgil says, glaring at Roman. "Tell the truth, Princey."

"Well, not _exactly_ ," Roman says. "It's not...well, you don't see it out _here_ , do you?" He waves a hand around the hallway.

"Is it connected through your room?" Logan asks with interest, adjusting his glasses. Roman nods, looking miserable.

"It is _now_ ," he says. "But I- I have to admit, I have no idea why."

"Well, you are brothers, as we established. Perhaps Thomas recognizing the other half of his Creativity has led to you growing closer," Logan theorizes.

"That doesn't explain _him_ ," Virgil points out, jerking a thumb toward Deceit's still-closed door.

"Well, maybe we should go talk to him," Patton says. "He can't be all bad, right?" Virgil thinks of Deceit's hands, bandaging his wrist up, and winces.

"You aren't going alone," Virgil says. "I'll go with you."

"Then I will, as well," Logan says.

"And I!" Roman says, his arms up in his standard flourish. Virgil rolls his eyes.

"We're all fucked," he proclaims gloomily.

"Language, kiddo!" Patton chides.

"Whatever," Virgil shrugs. He looks down the corridor. Deceit's door seems to gleam with some rich, inner poison. It's hard to drag his eyes away from the mesmerizing pattern of the snakeskin swirls in green and gold.

Why is _he_ connected to the main area, all of a sudden? Is anyone _else_ going to show up? Virgil swallows. He hopes not.

"Remember not to make a lot of noise," Patton cautions. "We don't want to upset him."

"It's _Deceit_ , why do you care?" Roman demands.

"Because otherwise we're ganging up on him?" Virgil points out sourly. He doesn't _want_ to defend Deceit. _He didn't have to help you. He didn't have to-_

 _Shut up,_ Virgil tells his inner monologue. _I get the point._

He looks up, and his face pales. In the shuffle of arguments and his own inner struggle, they've already arrived.

Deceit's door looms in front of him.


	3. we're going down swinging

He hears voices first. Voices right outside his door and they don't sound like Remus or anyone else who _should_ be able to find his door and argue in front of it. No, they sound like-

Deceit frowns.

The _good_ sides? How had _they_ found their way over _here_? He looks around himself and winces when he sees the disarray that always befalls his room when a bout of depression swamps him. Great. He _and_ his room look like shit, and he's probably about to get yelled at like a sulky toddler for something he supposedly did wrong. He hasn't even _done_ anything (besides try to _help_ people), but he knows that doesn't matter. They never understand his motivations, the callback debacle made _that_ perfectly clear. Why bother anymore?

And then a knock sounds on the door and all his thoughts scatter to the wind and his breath is too tight in his chest. Deceit struggles to control his breathing, flexing his fingers tightly in his gloves. It's fine. He'll be fine.

_Lie._

He pulls the door open just as Patton has his hand raised to knock again. The emotional side jerks his hand back, red dusting his freckled cheeks.

"What do you all want?" Deceit asks lazily, lounging against the door frame and raising an eyebrow. This has the additional benefit of blocking most of his room from view. All of them are there, he notices. Virgil's huddled in the back, looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

"We-" Logan starts, before Roman pushes past him, face indignant.

"We want to know why _your_ room is suddenly connected to the main area!" Roman exclaims. Before he can stop his reaction, Deceit's mouth drops open. _What?_ Are they playing some sort of sick joke on him?

"Virgil, I don't at all wish to speak with you alone for a moment," Deceit says tightly. Before Virgil can slip away, one of Deceit's other arms snakes out, curling around Virgil's unwounded wrist and dragging him inside Deceit's bedroom, just as Deceit slams the door in everyone else's faces.

"Whoa," Virgil says, looking around at the chaos. "What's going on with _you_?"

"Nothing," Deceit says thinly. _Lie._ "What's going on with _you_? Did you bring everyone to my room to- to do, what? Chastise me? Insult me? What do you _want_?" He hisses, his yellow eye flickering. Virgil flinches.

"No," Virgil says. "I just woke up and a hallway to your room was there. In the main area. I don't know why you're connected now, but-" He shrugs. "You are now."

"What?" Deceit says blankly. _That can't be. That's supposed to be impossible. I don't belong over_ here _. I never have. I never will._

_Falsehood,_ whispers his mind. He ignores it.

"I should return you," Deceit says. The clamor outside has only increased in volume, and he's sure Roman's about to try kicking the door down. He opens it again and shoves Virgil out.

"There you go," Deceit says smoothly. "Totally harmed. What do you all _want_? I'm totally enlightened about how I've somehow ended up connected to _you_."

"Well, maybe it's so we can get to know you better!" Patton says, encouraging. "I'm sure Thomas would like that and- and I would, too, gosh darn it." Deceit looks at him in disbelief.

" _Morality_ wants to become buddy buddy with _Deceit_?" Deceit repeats. "Oh, that sounds...delightful."

"Doesn't it?" Patton says brightly, obviously choosing to ignore the blatant lie.

"Even if it does for you, I'm sure the rest of you are charmed at the thought of getting to know me better," Deceit says coolly. "Except you, Virgil." A smile tugs at the human side of his face when he sees Virgil scowl.

"Well, I am willing to attempt it if it will help Thomas," Logan says, pushing his glasses up on his nose. He has a coffee cup in one hand. The others all turn to look at Roman, who heaves a gusty sigh.

"Fine," Roman groans. "If everyone else is gallant enough to, then I suppose that I- uh- I am, too."

"Flattered," Deceit drawls. "But I can assure you, I have _every_ desire to spend time with you and 'get to know you better.'" He makes quotation marks around the last bit. "I won't at all be spending the time in my room, doing my job and hoping that my room moves back to its intended spot."

And with that, he whirls back into his room, cape flaring out behind him. The slam of the door is a satisfactory ring to his ears.

"I'll bring you lunch later!" Patton calls through the door, as he hears them all begin to move away. Deceit heaves a very aggrieved sigh.

Why can't they leave him _alone_? He knows they don't _really_ want to get to know him. They don't _really_ care. They haven't actually changed their mind. They just want to know why the mind scape has changed and they aren't the only ones.

But how he wishes that for just a moment, it was true.


	4. your moral compass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for all the comments/kudos/etc., both to this particular story and the series, as a whole, it means a lot!

True to form, Deceit hears a quiet knock on his door around lunch time.

"It's me," Patton calls through the door. "I brought lunch! It's tomato soup and grilled cheese."

_Splendid_ , Deceit thinks sardonically, ignoring how it felt more natural to be sincere. He pays no attention to Patton. Morality will give up sooner or later. It's probably just a token gesture, something to make himself feel better. That's all.

"I used snake cut-outs on the sandwich," Patton coaxes through the door. Before Deceit can stop himself, he's striding across the room and flinging open the door to reveal Patton's startled face. The lunch tray in his hands jerks, but doesn't fall.

" _Don't_ come in," Deceit says, holding the door open wider. Only as Patton slips past him does he remember the state his room is still in. He winces, expecting comment, but Patton doesn't say anything about it, just asks where he can set the lunch tray.

"Uh...not on that desk," Deceit says, pointing to it. "Why aren't you here, Patton?"

"I told you I would," Patton says warmly. "I hope you like it. I'm afraid I don't know your favorites."

"It's fine," Deceit murmurs, and that has the sound of truth to it. " _Don't_ sit down, would you?" Patton settles on a chair as Deceit picks up half the sandwich (which is, true to Patton's word, lying on the plate in two cheesy snake squiggles) and bites into it. Patton is a surprisingly good cook.

"I've been thinking more about it," Patton says. "Why your room is connected to the rest of us, I mean."

"Oh?" Deceit raises an eyebrow, trying to look unaffected as he eats his sandwich. His stomach twists until he feels like he might as well be channeling Virgil. He hopes Virgil can't tell where the anxiety is coming from.

"Well, I was thinking about the other night-" Patton begins and Deceit lurches forward.

"That has _everything_ to do with it," he hisses, pushing out what he hopes is a lie. Patton frowns.

"I think maybe it does," Patton says. "You helped me. You didn't have to. Have you- well, have you helped anyone else?" Deceit swallows, nearly choking on grilled cheese crumbs. He buries his face in his soup, trying to ignore the question floating in the air.

"Deceit?" Patton asks and his voice is soft, so soft Deceit almost can't believe it's _Patton_. 

"Of course I haven't," Deceit sniffs. _Lie_ burns his throat, mingling unpleasantly with the taste of cheese and tomato. Patton nods like he expected that answer.

"I'm not upset that you're connected to the main area, you know," Patton says. Deceit lifts his head in surprise when all he feels is bright, sharp truth. "I want to get to know you better. You're my counterpart. I- I always wanted to push you away, but now..." Patton looks down, fiddling with the knotted sleeves of his cat hoodie. "I don't think that's the right way to go. It's not fair to you. Or to Thomas. To _anyone_."

"I-" All of Deceit's words stick in his throat. He doesn't know what to say. What to believe. _Patton_ believes what he's saying, he can tell that much. But the others? He doubts any of them want to bring up that he's attempted to help them in the dark of night when it's the unforgiving light of day. Secrets remain secrets when the sun is down and the lights are off. Deceit knows _that_ all too well, just like he knows Thomas still waited nearly two hours before waking up Patton and Roman after the disastrous party (although he didn't touch the vodka bottle again, Deceit would have known. Not that it would have helped, he'd replaced the alcohol inside with water. What Thomas didn't know wouldn't hurt him).

"It's all right, you don't have to say anything," Patton assures him. "I just wanted to let you know that- that I appreciate you."

_Truth_.

Patton stands up.

"You can leave the tray outside your door when you're done if you don't want to bring it to the kitchen," he says. "I don't mind."

"Thank you," Deceit says, feeling rather...dazed. Patton smiles brightly.

" _Cat_ -ch you later!" He says, and wanders out the door, closing it gently behind him. Deceit stares down into his cooling bowl of soup.

_What is going on?_ He thinks. 

He wishes he knew.


	5. emotional intelligence

When Patton opens his door, ready to start dinner (and set aside an extra plate for Deceit), he runs straight into Virgil, nearly sending them both tumbling to the floor. Only Virgil's quick reflexes save them, keeping them upright.

"Sorry," Virgil mumbles. His hands are stuffed in his hoodie pockets and he has his hood pulled up, obscuring most of his face. Not a good day for him then, Patton observes. "This was- this was dumb, I shouldn't have come here, I'll just-"

"No, come in!" Patton reassures him, opening the door as wide as he can. "You know I'm always happy to help, Virgil." A ghost of a smile traces Virgil's lips.

"I uh, I know you are, Pop Star," Virgil says, finally slinking past Patton and settling in an awkward, crumpled position on the floor that looks like it _must_ hurt his spine. "But this uh." He swallows. "What was it like? When you took him lunch?"

"Deceit?" Patton clarifies, blinking in surprise. Virgil nods jerkily. "Well, he invited me in. He seemed to really like the snake cut-outs. I'll have to use them more often! I told him that I appreciate him. He-"

"Yes, but how _was_ he?" Virgil persists. "How was his _room_?"

"A bit of a mess," Patton admits. "But so's mine!" He looks around at the room, crammed with nostalgic memories, every corner bursting at the seams.

"His mess and your mess are a little different, Patton," Virgil points out. "Yours is like...organized chaos. His is just _chaos_. That's-" Virgil nibbles on one of his fingernails until Patton reaches over and gently tugs his finger away from his mouth, making Virgil redden. "That's _really bad,_ Patton," Virgil finishes. "He's- It's not good when he's in chaos."

"Why?" Patton asks. Virgil shrugs, but it's the kind of shrug that says he knows. He knows, but he can't say. Doesn't know how. Doesn't have permission. Patton understands that. He only hopes that maybe he can learn it directly from the source at some point. He wasn't lying when he said he appreciates Deceit. He knows his counterpart has helped him in the past. It used to make him feel like a terrible person, relying on lies to make decisions. Knowing that the others would follow what he suggested because hey, he's Morality. You can't cross Morality, can you?

He still feels like a bad person sometimes but now he thinks it's more of a balancing act than he previously thought.

"Has Deceit helped you recently?" Patton asks. Virgil stiffens. Patton notices the aborted glance at his wrist, but doesn't comment. Virgil, too, will say something when he's ready. He doesn't open up if you push him.

"Yes," Virgil admits in a reluctant mumble. He doesn't elaborate further on the subject.

"He's helped me, too," Patton reveals. Virgil's eyes widen in surprise. "I- Well, I have a theory. If he's been going around helping everyone, then maybe the mind scape decided he should be connected to all of us."

"But he's still a Dark Side," Virgil says. "Is- isn't he?"

"Maybe the hallway's turning on the Light," Patton says, enjoying Virgil's groan.

"Okay, but you don't know if he's helped anyone _else_ ," Virgil points out. "That's such a weird qualifier."

"I don't know, it's just a theory," Patton says. "I think he could use a friend."

"And you want to be his friend, just like that," Virgil says skeptically. Deceit's words echo in Patton's head. _Why would you deserve a happy ending, after all._ He knows what the other side _really_ means.

"It isn't just like that," he says aloud. Virgil slumps back against the bed.

"Good," he says. "I- You don't know what the Dark Sides are like, Patton."

"I met Remus," Patton reminds him. "I know him." Virgil flaps a hand dismissively.

"He's harmless," Virgil says. "Well- I know that _now_." Red fills his cheeks. "That isn't the point. He isn't the only Dark Side out there. And Deceit pretended to be _you_ before. I just-" He blows out a long breath. "I don't want you to, you know, get hurt."

"Virgil, thank you for looking out for me," Patton says, genuinely touched. "Really, it means a lot. I can take care of myself, but I love knowing that you're right there with me." 

Virgil sighs. It sounds relieved.

"Well, good," he says. "Uh- are you gonna ask the others if Deceit's visited them?"

"I want to _try_ ," Patton says. "Do you think you could help?"

"Sure, I guess," Virgil mumbles, playing with his hoodie sleeves. "I refuse to talk to Princey about it, though."

"I'll ask Roman," Patton promises.

As he sees Virgil out the door and heads to the kitchen to prep the pasta, he can't help but wonder.

What _does_ it mean if Deceit's room is in chaos?


	6. enter the trash man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild animal cruelty/animal death implications? it's remus, so (think "forbidden fruit" level)
> 
> also mild self harm at the end

"Hey," Remus says, popping in out of nowhere. Deceit looks up and sneers.

"What have I told you about coming to my room uninvited?" Deceit asks icily. Remus shrugs, completely unaffected. Naturally.

"Not to," he says brightly. "But I had to. I heard the _news_." He sing-songs the last word.

"What news?" Deceit asks, although he has a feeling he already knows. The corridor to the main area. The fact that he's connected to the rest of them. The sides he's not _supposed_ to be connected to.

"Turning Light now, are we?" Remus asks, a broad, shit-eating grin on his face. Deceit throws a balled-up napkin at Remus's face. Midway through the process, it turns into an enormous worm that poofs out right as it splats against the side's mustache.

"Do you _have_ to do that?" Deceit snaps. Remus grins wider.

"I don't know, do I?" He asks. "What if-"

"I'm _totally_ in the mood to hear your intrusive creativity, Remus," Deceit interrupts him. Hurt flashes across the Duke's face, almost too quickly to be seen, and Deceit sighs. "I apologize," he says. _Truth_. "I'm just not in the greatest of moods."

"Roman's not in the greatest of moods either," Remus confides. "Why do you think I showed up?"

"Because you live to irritate me?" Deceit says.

"That, too," Remus says. "He's unhappy that _two_ Dark Sides are around now. Like we're going to hurt Thomas." He scoffs, like the idea is patently ridiculous. Deceit stares at him incredulously.

"Remus, you constantly tell him he should jump out of a moving car," Deceit points out. "That would, indeed, _hurt Thomas_."

"Well, you lie," Remus says, with a shrug. Deceit pinches the bridge of his nose. Even through the gloves, it feels odd. One side is scaly, the other is smooth human skin.

"I try to _protect_ Thomassss," Deceit hisses in explanation. "There's a _difference_."

"I suppose," Remus says, begrudging. "Hey, can you imagine jumping off a building? Do you think it would feel like flying?"

"Until you met the ground, perhaps," Deceit says dryly. "Try not to implant that idea in Thomas's head, would you?" Remus bats his eyelashes at him, trying to play the ingenue. It doesn't help when a passing thought turns his eyelashes into spiders that start to crawl up his forehead.

"Would you stop that?" Deceit hisses through clenched teeth.

"All right, all right," Remus placates, his eyelashes turning to normal in a blink.

"Roman must be having a _delightful_ time with you ping-ponging all over the place," Deceit mutters.

"It _is_ delightful, isn't it," Remus says brightly, clasping his hands together under his chin.

"So are you just here to plague me now?" Deceit asks. Remus looks serious for a moment, and it unsettles him. Remus shouldn't _look_ that way.

"Roman's _really_ unhappy," Remus stresses. "I don't know why. He has to deal with my charming visage all the time, after all. Another Dark Side shouldn't be too difficult to deal with, right?"

A chill settles in Deceit's bones and he can feel the scaled side of his face itch. He knows what his fellow Dark Side is implying. _Watch your back_. But why? Is he _that_ hated? He tried to _help_ Roman, that's-

That's not fair. His mouth twists bitterly. But life's never _been_ fair for him, now has it. It removed the pretense of being fair as soon as he became Deceit. The trait of deception, the purveyor of lies.

"Hey," Remus says cautiously, and Deceit realizes the man must have been talking this entire time. He's missed all of it. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," Deceit says, and ignores the way the lie burns his tongue.

"Right," Remus says, looking skeptical before his brain distracts him once more. "If a dog is stuffed into a sausage, what if a cat was stuffed into a burger patty?"

"That's disgusting, Remus," Deceit says, almost fondly. "Now get out of my room. Go pester your brother some more."

"Fine, fine," Remus says with a theatrical flourish as he sinks out of his room. Deceit looks around and sighs. Of course.

The corners of his room twist, shadows flowing and melting. He looks down at his arms, the scratches he left still pink.

 _More,_ he thinks, and sinks his claws into them. The pain does nothing to help.

He's not surprised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear roman has reasons to feel that way, he's not just a jerk


	7. secrets and lies

Roman puts on a brave face at dinner, although he's exhausted from trying to corral his brother's more...disgusting whimsies. Thomas doesn't need to think about all _that_ and sometimes Roman can shut Remus's wilder ideas up for a while.

It's hard today, though. It's hard and he knows why, although he can't see it from the kitchen. Deceit's room. _Deceit_. He's not eating with them, although Patton took him a plate. (He's offered to make Remus a plate, too, but Remus told him that deodorant was enough.) Roman's secretly glad. He doesn't want the other side there. The _Dark Side_ there. It doesn't matter whether or not his room is connected, he's still Dark. His brother certainly is, after all. Why would Deceit have changed?

Roman's already been so _foolish_ around the man, he remembers the courtroom scene. The video where Deceit pretended to be Patton and flattered Roman's love of theater. Kind words in the night notwithstanding, the side is _dangerous_.

And there's that, as well. He's tentatively started to open up to Logan about the fact that he isn't as loud and proud as he pretends (apparently Logan's already seen through him anyway), but he hasn't brought up the bruises. He hasn't brought up the way his hands can't help but slam into his skin, pummeling in new shades of inferiority.

Deceit _knows_. What if he gets tired of Roman's delay? What if _he_ tells? Roman's hand trembles as he sets down his fork, staring blindly into his half-finished pasta. He can't let that happen.

He can't let Patton become _friends_.

"Roman? Are you all right?" Patton asks. Roman suppresses his nervous reaction and nods. He can feel Virgil's eyes boring into him. _Shit_. Of course VIrgil would notice, he's the literal personification of anxiety. Roman's anxiety must be coming off him in waves.

"I love your pasta, Padre!" Roman exclaims, clumsily changing the subject. "What's the special ingredient?"

"Oh, you know that," Patton laughs, waving his fork in the air. "It's love, silly! And-"

"Cumin," Virgil guesses, slumped over his plate and propping his chin up with one hand.

"That's right," Patton says, beaming. "And no elbows on the table, kiddo." Roman watches Virgil reluctantly rearrange himself. "Roman," Patton says, catching his attention.

"Yes?" Roman asks. His heart feels like it's going to thump out of his chest.

"Could I talk to you after dinner?" Patton asks. 

"S-sure," Roman stammers a bit. He knows the others must have picked up on it. _Damn it, Roman,_ he scolds himself, already aching for the feel of his fist cracking into his hip. "No problemo, as they say!"

"Thanks!" Patton says brightly. He can't possibly know what's wrong, right? Roman forces another bite of pasta into his mouth, although it tastes like cardboard now. Cumin-scented cardboard. Patton must have added a little too much of it again.

"So what would you like to talk about, Patton?" Roman asks, as Patton leads him into his room. The tinge of nostalgia overwhelms Roman for a moment, like it always does.

"I just wanted to talk to you about Deceit, that's all," Patton says. Roman stiffens.

"What has he done?" He demands sharply.

"Nothing, kiddo," Patton says, blinking. Roman realizes he's practically towering over the other side and forces himself to sit down on the bed. "Nothing _bad_ , anyway," he amends. "I was just wondering, well, has he ever helped you?"

Blood roars in Roman's ears.

"What do you mean?" He manages to eke out, his voice raspy and not at all his usual boisterous self. _Damn it, damn it, damn it, Patton's going to_ figure it out _, Patton's going to_ know _, he can't know, not- not yet-_

"Well, he's helped me when I didn't feel the best," Patton answers. "He's helped Virgil, too. So I was just wondering..."

"No," Roman interrupts, sharp and prickly and brittle. "I don't know what you mean." _Liar,_ his mind taunts him. He keeps his eyes strictly on Patton's face, not willing to see luminous yellow in the shadows.

 _You keep summoning me, anyway. I'm tired of pretending I'm not here._ Deceit's words echo in his mind, and his mouth turns sour.

"Are you okay, Roman?" Patton asks, peering into his face. Roman pastes a smile on, dredging it up from the depths of his creative well.

"Of course," he says. "I suppose Deceit _has_ helped with my brother a bit."

"Maybe that's it," Patton says, seizing onto the idea. Roman feels only the slightest pang of guilt as he misdirects the moral side. The sound of a snake hissing seems to slither into his ears and he has to force himself not to shiver.

"Just remember to be careful, Patton?" Roman says, when Patton pauses for breath.

"Well, of course I will," Patton says. "I know what I'm doing, Roman. Don't worry. You'll see. Everything will be just fine, Deceit included."

 _That's what I'm afraid of,_ Roman thinks gloomily.


	8. here it's december every day

Dinner confirms everything.

Patton brings him a plate, like he promised. Deceit opens the door a crack and the scent of cumin sends him reeling. But Patton's there, smiling and holding up a tray, and the tray has little yellow snakes painted on it, so against his better judgment, Deceit finds himself accepting the tray.

"Thank you, Patton," he murmurs. The brightness of Patton's smile makes his chest tighten. He's almost tempted to watch Morality walk back down the hall, but refuses. _He's just being nice. That's what he_ does _. He'll tire of you sooner or later._

_Lies._

He can hear them, chatting away in the kitchen. It is an exquisitely painful experience, locked away in his room while he picks at spaghetti sauce-soaked pasta and listens to Patton's laughter, Roman's boisterousness, Virgil's awkward contributions, and Logan's thoughtfully measured ones.

The pain of being summoned jerks in his stomach, spiraling up his throat, and he nearly flings his plate across the table in surprise. Roman. _Again_. He's lying to himself again, and lying to the others. Even from here, Deceit can taste the falsehoods spinning their way into being.

_I love your pasta, Padre!_

_I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine._

Deceit feels Roman's lies, thumping in perfect unison with his heartbeat. He frowns. Why is Roman lying _now_? Didn't he take Deceit's advice? Deceit had felt a _slight_ improvement, after all.

 _Why would he listen to you?_ His mind asks scornfully. _Listen to yourself. You're Deceit! Why should he listen to a_ liar _? What, you want to make nice now? You want to pretend that your role is_ good _? Don't kid yourself. It takes a liar to know a liar. You, of all people, should know that._

 _We need to work together better,_ Deceit argues weakly with himself. _For the benefit of Thomas._

 _Thomas hates you,_ his thoughts laugh, and the blend of truth and falsehood burns his throat. _Comforting little lies at four a.m. aside. He doesn't want to be a liar. He thinks he's a bad person because_ you _exist. What does that say about_ you _?_

Deceit swallows, unable to come up with a proper comeback to that. What is there to say? His thoughts are right. Thomas doesn't want to be known as a liar. Thomas doesn't want to be a bad person. Thomas sees Deceit as nothing but a liar.

Another tug, stronger this time, unwillingly pulls him into Patton's room. He blinks in surprise. Dinner must be over. He hadn't even noticed, too preoccupied with the downward spiral his mind has decided to inflict upon himself.

"Has he ever helped you?" Patton asks, and Deceit snaps to attention.

"What do you mean?" Roman asks, and Deceit knows, before the words even come out, that Roman is going to lie. The fact that he adds a pitiful postscript about his brother does nothing to quell the sharp ache that's taken up residence in Deceit's throat.

 _Two out of four ain't bad?_ He thinks, but he knows that doesn't help. He doesn't know how Logan feels. He didn't really _help_ Logan. Not like he tried to help the others. Logan has _found_ a healthy coping mechanism, even if the time he does it isn't that ideal. 

He tunes back in to hear the conversation finishing.

"Just remember to be careful, Patton?" Roman pleads. Bitterness wells in Deceit's mouth. Is he not allowed to have _anything_? Not even his own _counterpart_?

Breathing heavily, he sinks back into his room before he can hear Patton's response. The rest of his dinner sits on his desk, mocking him. Instead, he slides to the floor, ignoring the cold slowly seeping through his clothes, making him shiver.

Shadows warp around him, whispers filling his ears.

Not for the first time, Deceit listens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes the chapter title is an afi reference
> 
> also! if anyone cares, my tumblr is candied-peach! ♡ i've kinda spontaneously turned it into a sanders side fan blog over night lmao


	9. an exchanging of words

"I already know what you want to talk about," Logan says, before Virgil can even make it fully through the doorway. He stops midway, hunching over in his hoodie like he can disappear that way.

"Y-you do?" Virgil asks. Logan puts his book aside, some treatise on astrophysics (Virgil steadfastly refuses to pay too much attention to it), and pushes his glasses up.

"Of course," he says. "Come in, Virgil. I told you it was all right." Virgil sidles the rest of the way in, letting the door close behind him.

"So uh," Virgil fidgets with his hoodie sleeves until Logan rummages around in a desk drawer and tosses him a fidget cube. He nearly drops it in his surprise. "Thank you."

"You wanted to talk about Deceit, correct?" Logan asks. Virgil nods.

"Patton said- well, Deceit helped him out when he wasn't feeling great and he uh, helped me out, so Patton thinks that's why his room is connected now," Virgil mumbles. Logan pauses for a moment, thinking.

"It would make sense," he says. "He is the reason I inadvertently woke everyone the other night, with fresh cookies."

"Still weird you can bake as well as Patton, dude," Virgil says. The tiniest pleased smirk flits across Logan's face.

"I would not have classified it as helpful before, perhaps, but I do believe it was intended to be," Logan continues. "And- perhaps it was enjoyable, not being alone." Virgil figures that's as much of a confession as he's going to get out of the logical side.

"Why's he going around trying to help everyone?" Virgil wonders.

"Perhaps he doesn't want to be a Dark Side anymore," Logan suggests. "I- do not mean to bring up old wounds, but you yourself must have struggled with that."

"Yeah," Virgil admits, chewing on his thumbnail before Logan gently redirects him back to the fidget cube. "I dunno. It's just. Weird." _Suspicious_. But despite what he's said about Deceit, he knows the snake-like side isn't _actually_ a Scooby Doo villain. He _does_ want the best for Thomas, even if he has a weird way of showing it. That's just who he is.

"He has important points sometimes," Logan says. "When he is not speaking solely in lies, I find talking with him interesting. He would be an intriguing debate partner."

"He reads as much philosophy shit as you do," Virgil says, remembering Deceit's crowded bookshelves. They're much more haphazard than the orderly precision of Logan's room, but that doesn't mean Deceit doesn't take good care of his books.

Well, usually. Virgil frowns when he remembers the state of Deceit's room the last time he saw it. That was...not good. Deceit lost to depression and apathy was _very, very not good_.

But Patton wants to reach out. Has been reaching out. That- that has to be a good start, right? Virgil tightens his grip on the fidget cube. He may not be a Dark Side anymore, but he's becoming more and more aware that that doesn't mean he doesn't still _care_.

"Virgil?" Logan asks, evident concern on his face. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know," Virgil says in frustration. "That's the problem."

"Can I assist you?" Logan asks. Virgil shrugs helplessly.

"Maybe," he says. "I don't know. I just." He stops. 

_Apathy_.

"You know," he begins slowly. "Maybe you can help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plays ominous music
> 
> i keep adding it to my chapter notes but oh well, check me out on tumblr at candied-peach ♡


	10. my tourniquet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh, there is a kinda graphic self-harm/suicide attempt in this
> 
> but like, the aftermath

Preoccupied with his confusing chat with Roman, Patton almost doesn't notice that Deceit hasn't put out his dinner tray the way he did his lunch tray. He frowns in concern, then gathers his courage and tiptoes up to the door, giving it a firm rap with his knuckles.

"Deceit?" He calls. "Are you all right? I noticed you didn't put your tray out here..." Silence. Patton looks at the doorknob, not quite brave enough to open it with no consent from its occupant. But he has this _feeling_ crawling into his bones and _frissoning_ up his spine, and it's _bad_.

"Yo, Pop Star, why are you down here?" Virgil calls, and Patton feels relief flood him. Virgil's been in Deceit's room before. Virgil knows Deceit better than anyone on this side. Maybe he can help.

"Deceit never put out his dinner tray," Patton explains. "And he didn't answer when I called."

"Maybe he fell asleep," Virgil suggests, but doubt creases his face. "Let me try." Patton moves aside as Virgil knocks on the door.

"Yo, snake-face," Virgil says. "You're worrying Patton, dude. Come on."

Silence meets them. Now it has an ominous quality that only increases the shivery, _wrong_ feeling crawling down the back of Patton's neck.

"Right, that's it," Virgil says, and opens the door, slamming it back on its hinges.

"Lucky it's not lock-" Patton starts to say, then stops, mouth gaping.

Deceit's room was already a bit of a mess. Now it looked like a whirlwind had gone through and _trashed_ it. The aforementioned dinner tray still sits on the desk, but Deceit's barely touched it.

The man in question is sprawled by the bed, arms laying limply in his lap. He doesn't even look up when the two of them invade his room, the brim of his hat casting shadows over his face.

" _Shit_ ," Virgil says fervently and that's about the time Patton realizes the coppery scent hanging in the air has nothing to do with the pasta he made for dinner and everything to do with the dark red puddle slowly forming around his newfound friend.

He gasps, one hand coming up to his mouth as tears spring to his eyes. Virgil dashes to Deceit's side, kneeling next to him, heedless of the blood staining his jeans.

"He's alive," Virgil says. "I mean- duh, we can't die, but- Patton, get the first aid kit. And Logan. I think Logan would help."

Patton hurtles out of the room, straight to the bathroom where they keep the first aid kit. He pounds on Logan's door like a maniac until the logical side opens it, eyes widening at the sight of Patton, teary-eyed, cardigan askew, holding a first aid kit like a lifeline.

"It's Deceit," Patton manages to choke out, and Logan seems to understand. Every second stretches for an eternity as they race back to Deceit's room. Patton doesn't see Roman on the way and he's secretly relieved. After hearing the warnings Roman doled out, he doesn't think that Roman would be very good for Deceit's mental health right now.

When they get back, Virgil's putting pressure on Deceit's arms. _Multiple_ arms, Patton notices with queasy fascination. He knew Deceit had six arms from the courtroom, but it still feels odd to see more than two sprawled on the floor, never mind sluggishly oozing metallic rills of blood.

"What do you need?" Logan asks in a clipped tone. When Virgil looks up, there is naked relief in his eyes.

"Help," he says.

The next few minutes pass in a blur of antiseptic and gauze and Logan's quiet, calm directions. Patton shuts down and lets his hands automatically do the work. He can't focus otherwise. Not when Deceit's still barely stirred. His eyes are closed and the skin around his scales is red and inflamed. It's the first time Patton's wondered if they hurt. There's so many.

"There," Logan says. "Everything is bandaged now. Deceit? Can you hear us?"

"No," came a tired, dull response. Deceit cracks one eye open. The snake one. It looks as dead as the rest of him. "Why are you here?" He asks in surprise.

"I was worried," Patton says, trying his best not to sniffle. "You didn't leave your dinner tray and you didn't answer, so I got Virgil and you didn't answer _him_ , and he came in anyway, and you were like this-"

"Sorry to bother you," Deceit says. "I'll put the tray out next time."

"That's not the issue!" Patton explodes, his voice wobbly as fresh tears spill down his cheeks. "I don't care about the tray, Deceit, I care about _you_! You _hurt_ yourself, and that scares me and worries me and all I want to do is- is keep you safe."

"From myself?" Deceit hisses. Patton nods resolutely.

"Even from yourself," he confirms. "Why- why did you do it?" He asks, faltering.

"Did you know," Deceit begins in a casual tone. "That you summon me if you lie to yourself? I _have_ to show myself if that happens."

 _Roman,_ Patton instantly jumps to.

His heart sinks down into his shoes.


	11. confessional

Remus is angry.

He's not as oblivious as his brother. He saw the tears on Patton's face, the urgency in Logan's tread. He saw their direction.

He saw Deceit.

And he knows- he _knows_ \- that his brother is at least partially to blame. 

"You know, maybe they mislabeled us," he says spitefully as he rises up in Roman's room. Roman looks at him in surprise from his seat by his working desk.

"What do you mean?" Roman asks.

"Good creativity, bad creativity," Remus says, with a flamboyant wave of his hands. "For all you think about flowers and princes and fanciful _bullshit_ , perhaps I'm the good one after all." Roman stiffens.

"Hey-" He starts, but Remus continues, steamrolling over his brother. The thought of literally doing so pops into his head and he pushes it away. Now is not the time. He can't give in, not when he's trying to make such an important point.

"I get it, you know, I know you think we're all Dark, but you gave Virgil a shot, you're supposedly giving _me_ a shot, why won't you give _him_ one?" Remus demands. Roman sighs.

"So this is about Deceit, huh?" He asks. "What, did he put you up to this?" He scoffs. "He's going to have to prove that he's working for the team better than asking my _brother_ -"

"He didn't _ask_ me to do _anything_ , you fucking wanker," Remus interrupts him, anger boiling hot and tumultuous inside him. His hands clench into fists, so tightly his knuckles go white. "He's lying in a puddle of his own blood _again_ , and the last thing I heard him manage to say, you know, through the _pain of hurting himself,_ was about being summoned when one of _you_ lies to themselves. The others sure didn't seem like it meant them, so that leaves _you_ , dear brother."

 _Bash his brains in,_ Remus's thoughts whirl around and around in a cascade of violent images, each one bloodier than the last. He shudders, biting his lip hard until the images start to let up. _Not the time, not the time, not the time,_ he mentally chants.

"What- what do you mean, lying in his own blood?" Roman asks weakly. He's gone very pale, except for two spots of bright red color, burning high on his cheekbones. Remus wonders for a moment if he's going to faint, then decides that he doesn't care.

"Exactly what I said," Remus says, his voice sharp and stinging. "What did you _do_ , Roman?"

"I just-" Roman hesitates. "I don't understand, it couldn't have-"

"Well, obviously it did," Remus snaps.

"I told Patton to be careful," Roman says. "Because he's- well, he's Deceit. And I didn't-" He swallows, more nervous than Remus has ever seen him. "I didn't tell Patton the truth."

"About what?" Remus prods.

"Deceit helping me." It comes out in an embarrassed mumble.

"He helped you?" Remus asks in surprise. Roman nods, not meeting his eyes. "Why _not_ tell good ol' Pattycake then?"

"You don't understand, Remus," Roman says, and now _his_ voice is sharp, but more than that, he sounds like he's on the edge of crying, and suddenly a lot of Remus's anger is dissipating, like sand through a sieve. _Ground up brain through a colander,_ his mind supplies.

"Try me," he says softly.

Roman hesitates, then pulls up the side of his shirt, revealing a yellowed splotch of bruise that curls around his ribcage. Remus gasps in genuine surprise, fingers reaching out before he can think, stopping just short of touching the injured skin.

"Who did that?" Remus demands. A sad, half-smile crosses Roman's face as he lets his shirt drop back down.

"I did," he says.


	12. mushy moments

Everything hurts. 

Virgil helps him to his feet, keeping a firm grip on his elbow when it looks like he might face plant into the tacky pool of his own blood.

"Come on," Virgil says. "You aren't staying in here anymore." Deceit opens his mouth to offer up at least a token protest but then he sees the tears still glazing Patton's eyes and the way Logan's shoulders have stiffened, and he deflates.

"Fine," he says wearily.

"I'll clean up in here," Logan offers. "If that is all right with you, Deceit."

"You can't make it less messy," Deceit says. "But other than that." Logan looks slightly perplexed as he summons a roll of paper towels, but Deceit can't make himself care. If Logan's willing to clean up the blood, that's all Deceit wants. For all he stiffens against Virgil's touch, he doesn't want to be left alone in his room with the shadows thick as ever and the cloying scent of blood in his nostrils.

"Where are you going?" He asks in fuzzy alarm as Virgil steers him further and further down the hallway.

"The living room," Virgil says.

"But-" Deceit protests. "Why not _your_ room or-"

"My room might push you over the edge," Virgil says bluntly. "You know it tends to give people anxiety. You don't need any more right now, and you know it." 

Deceit couldn't argue with that, not with how bad his arms are throbbing. Now that they've been tended to, at least he can hide his extra away, tucking them against his body. You'd have to know they were there to see the shadows they cast.

"Here," Patton says, speaking for the first time since his outburst. His eyes are still red and Deceit feels a sharp pang of guilt. He made Morality _cry_. He never meant to make Patton cry. Virgil's eye shadow is messier than usual, and shame pricks the back of his throat as he is guided to the sofa. He doesn't think he's ever sat on it with anyone else. Or at all, really.

"Can you talk about it?" Patton asks. He's so quiet, so gentle. Deceit's not used to the loud, outgoing, "happy pappy Patton" being so...considerate. His throat tightens.

"I... _know_ ," he admits, his words warping to lies. It's so hard to keep a hold on it when he feels like this, like the slightest wrong touch will break him into a thousand fragments. The scales on the side of his face burn.

"What triggered it?" Virgil asks. "If you can say." Somehow it's easier to answer Virgil. He's familiar, hunched over in his purple-patched hoodie, hair falling into his eyes. He knows- well, maybe Deceit's not been like _this_ in a long while, but Virgil knows what Deceit is prone to. 

"Like I said," Deceit says slowly. "If one of you is being particularly...free with the lies, I end up summoned. You can guess who might have done _that_."

"Roman," Virgil says. He looks angry, and Deceit's stomach twists.

"It's his story to tell, if he so chooses," Deceit states. "I- I won't break his trust like that."

"You don't have to," Patton soothes. He's sitting so close to Deceit, he can feel the other side's warmth. He's used to Virgil's iciness (not that the anxious side can help it). It's difficult not to scoot closer to the living heat lamp. "We can talk to Roman later. Right now, I'm worried about _you_."

"I'm fine," Deceit says, and the lie is ash and acid on his tongue. Virgil scoffs.

"I _know_ that's a lie, dude," Virgil says. "Come on. I _know_ you."

"Yes, Virgil, I'm _totally_ not well aware of that," Deceit snaps. Then he sighs. "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth?" Virgil says softly.

"I'm _Deceit,_ what do you expect?" Deceit hisses. "I'm a _liar_. That's all I am, and-"

"Falsehood," Logan's voice cuts across his diatribe and he pauses mid-sentence, mouth ajar in shock at the logical side, now standing in the middle of the living room. Logan pushes his glasses back up his nose as he approaches. "That is not all you are, and you have shown yourself capable of speaking the truth. I have not forgotten the courtroom, for all I was summoned...late."

"Sorry," Deceit mutters, his face suffusing with blood. Logan just nods.

"I wanna say thank you in public, Deceit," Virgil says suddenly. "You helped me the other day when I was panicking and you apologized for teasing me about my- my past."

"Thank you for helping me, too," Patton says. "It helped. You made me remember that I can be honest about my feelings."

"As much as it irritated me to have my peace and quiet interrupted, I actually appreciated not being alone," Logan joins in. "It was enjoyable to share my work. Thank you."

Deceit stares at the three of them in shock, his throat so dry he can't speak.

"You're _not_ welcome," he finally manages to croak out.

"Deceit, may I hug you?" Patton asks.

Shaky, Deceit nods.


	13. brotherly heart-to-heart

Roman winces at the look on his brother's face. He is used to Remus's eyes being alight with mischief or his mouth twisted in a too-knowing smirk. He has never seen this compassionate _understanding_ before and it makes unease crawl up his spine.

"Why?" Remus asks, as Roman fusses with his shirt, smoothing it back down over the splotches of bruise.

"It's...complicated," Roman hesitates. He doesn't want to tell- if he was going to tell anyone, _Remus_ wouldn't even be on the list of acceptable choices. On the other hand, Remus is his _twin_. Remus has his own muddled hellscape of a mind and wouldn't _he_ , of all people...understand?

"It's punishment," Roman finally blurts out. "For- for not being good enough."

"You are," Remus says simply. Roman shakes his head, his breath coming in quick pants. His head spins, like he's going to pass out or throw up, but he does neither.

"No," he says. "I'm not. I- I'm supposed to be _Creativity_. I'm supposed to _help_ Thomas, I'm supposed to come up with ideas- _good_ ideas, that he can use for his videos, but I so often come up empty or it's just not _good enough_ , there are so many _flaws_ -" He stops, his chest heaving. "I'm the dreamy fantasy guy, but lately, all of my dreams are _wrong_. And Thomas's fans- after the way I treated Virgil- what's left isn't good enough for them either. Nor should it be," he hastens to add. "I know the way I treated Virgil was appalling. I-" His clenched fist comes down, hard, on one thigh, grinding into a bruise already there. "Maybe you were right, Remus. I'm not as good as I want- as I'm _supposed_ to be."

"Don't you even," Remus says fiercely, anger sparking in his eyes, so alike Roman's and yet so different. "I said that because I was _angry_ , Roman, I just wanted someone and something to blame for Deceit's condition, and that happened to be you. And yeah, sure, maybe it is at least partly because of you. But I would be a _disaster_ if I were Thomas's creativity." A rueful laugh escapes him. "I can't stop thinking about smashing in my own skull right now, Thomas can't use _that_ in a video.

"And you _do_ have good ideas," Remus continues. "I think Disney Kids and Family content is boring, but that's just _me_ , Roman, that doesn't mean your ideas don't have merit. If the others keep tearing your ideas apart, that's _their_ problem, not yours. Same with any fan of Thomas. You're one of his sides and you're fucking _important_."

Roman stares at Remus in shock. He's never heard his brother rant like this before, especially with not a single mention of butts. Remus must- must _really_ feel like this is important. The thought makes Roman's chest tighten.

"Thank you, Remus," Roman says quietly. "I- you know I never meant to hurt Deceit like this, don't you? I never- never _liked_ him, but." He stops, swallowing hard.

"I know," Remus says. "He'll be okay. The others have him. You should go out there."

"I-" Roman stops, too afraid to admit that he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to face Deceit, not when it means facing up to all the lies he's told himself.

 _But I have to,_ he thinks, shakily strengthening his resolve.

"I don't want to," he admits. "But I know I should." Remus grins.

"Then let's go!" He exclaims, grandly flourishing toward the doorway, like they're kids again, pretending to be starting some grand adventure.

Maybe, in some way, they are.


	14. the gang's all here

Virgil stiffens at the sound of footsteps, pushing up a little from where he's been resting against Deceit (not at _all_ for comfort, of course, it was purely to make sure the snake-y side stayed warm, that's _all_ ). He looks up to see Roman and Remus enter the living room. Remus is wild-eyed, his gaze darting everywhere, as he jitters with nervous energy. Roman looks like he wants to sink through the floor and disappear. The quietly devastated look in his eyes is something Virgil has never seen and hopes to never see again. It _hurts_.

"I-" Roman starts, but Patton interrupts, waving him and Remus over to the couch.

"No need to hover," Patton says, almost cheerfully. Deceit says nothing, but Virgil can tell he's watching the twins. A barely perceptible tremor runs through him and Virgil finds himself soothing the other side with soft, quick pats.

"I need to apologize," Roman begins, subdued. "To all of you, really, but especially Deceit. Oh, and you, Patton."

"Me?" Patton asks in surprise.

"I lied to you," Roman admits. "I told you that Deceit had helped me with my brother and that part is true, but that isn't _all_ he did. He- well, I kept accidentally summoning him. And he saw me in a...less than princely state." Remus elbows Roman, and Virgil frowns when he sees the pained grimace that crosses Roman's face for an all-too-brief moment.

"You've made your _point_ , Remus," Roman says through gritted teeth. "As I was saying. He- Deceit- helped me with an anxiety attack."

"Panic attack," Deceit corrects in a low voice. Roman's face reddens.

"That," Roman says. "He also expressed concern about my- my welfare, and-"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Princey," Remus exclaims in exasperation, ignoring Patton's "Language!" He yanks up Roman's shirt and Virgil's mouth drops open when he sees the bruises scattered across Roman's sides and stomach, in various stages of healing. Some are vivid purple-black, and Virgil winces.

"Roman!" Patton gasps, his eyes already wet with sympathy. "How- What happened?"

"Roman hurts himself because he feels like none of his ideas are good enough," Remus blurts out. Roman glares at his twin, before yanking his shirt out of Remus's grip and smoothing the fabric back over his mottled skin.

 _Self harm buddies,_ Virgil thinks in uneasy fascination. He's never really experimented with hitting. He could never make himself bruise properly, it just hurt. But he never thought that _Roman_ would-

Well, then again, it's always the ones you wouldn't suspect, isn't it? He circumspectly eyes Patton, wondering what he's hiding. It's not like he went into much _detail_ when he thanked Deceit.

 _Later,_ he decides, tuning back into the conversation happening around him.

"Roman," Logan says, tugging at his tie. "I apologize for being too harsh on you. I seem to have missed the mark on 'positive' and 'constructive.'" The hope that starts to bloom in Roman's eyes is almost painful to watch.

"Hey, Deceit," Remus says cheerfully, pulling out a fresh stick of deodorant and beginning to nibble on it. Roman scrunches his nose in obvious disgust while Virgil has to hide a laugh. Apparently Roman _still_ doesn't know that said 'deodorant' is actually carefully sculpted marshmallow fondant. "Thanks for letting me in your room when my head was bonkers."

"You're... _quite_ welcome," Deceit says. "I- it's _terrible_ to hear all of your gratitude, of course, but-" He swallows, and Virgil can feel the nearly infinitesimal tremble increase. "I can't say I believe that-" He stops again, frustration wrinkling his forehead.

"It takes time," Patton says. "I meant it when I said I wanted to get to know you better, Deceit. I was, well, I was wrong before. I hurt Thomas _and_ you and I don't want to do that again."

"You know how I feel, snake-face," Virgil says, ignoring Patton's whispered admonishment over calling Deceit that. The gleam in Deceit's snake eye tells him that he understands what Virgil's trying to say. That's good enough for him.

"How are your arms?" Logan asks.

"They _don't_ hurt," Deceit admits. "But it is _absolutely_ not manageable."

"If you need pain relievers, just ask," Logan advises. "I can retrieve them for you."

"I'm fine now," Deceit reassures him. "But thank you."

They sink into an uncomfortable silence, until Remus decides to break it.

"Butthole?"


	15. emotional marathon

Deceit can't help but laugh at Remus's exclamation, though Patton sounds appalled and Roman can't stop scolding him. He catches Virgil's lazy smirk out of the corner of his eye. Logan just looks mildly exasperated.

"Hey!" Patton says, clapping his hands together. He's apparently given up on Remus as a lost cause. "What do you say to a Disney marathon? Right here in the living room? We could make a pillow nest and have cookies and popcorn and- I mean, if you want-"

"All of us?" Deceit asks in surprise.

"Of course," Patton says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Even- even you, Remus. If you want." Remus's eyes widen. Deceit thinks it's only testament to his shock that he agrees, sitting on the floor and settling his back against the couch.

"I'll get everything from the kitchen," Patton says, bouncing to his feet. After a moment of hesitation, Logan stands to follow him.

"I'll make sure nothing spills," Deceit hears him say and has to smother another laugh. It's... _odd_ , sitting here, in the middle of _their_ living room, acting like he belongs. But that's all it is, isn't it? Pretense. A patina of civility, after discovering his stupidity. He winces at the sting of pain that travels up his arms when he adjusts his position.

"Don't," Virgil says in a low voice. Deceit looks at him in surprise. "Whatever you're thinking. Don't."

"I'm afraid I have every idea what you mean," Deceit says. Virgil sighs.

"We aren't doing this because we pity you," he says, after making sure no one else is paying attention. Patton and Logan are still clattering about in the kitchen, and Roman and Remus seem to be engaged in a mini pillow fight on the floor. "When have I ever pitied you, dude. Never."

 _Truth_.

"We _care_ about you," Virgil says. "Or- shit, all right, so I can't speak for the others, but I _can_ say that _I_ care about you. I never stopped, even if I wanted to for a while. You're important to Thomas. You're important to _me_. I want you to be okay. You scared the shit out of me." He reaches out and carefully plucks one of Deceit's hands up in the air, resting it on his chest. Deceit can feel the rapid flutter of his heartbeat through the thin fabric of his tee shirt.

"I apologize," Deceit says carefully. Virgil glares at him.

"I will fight you if you try to say that I shouldn't have worried," Virgil says. "I will always worry about you. I know what it's like in your room." He lowers his voice even more. The shadows that swallow the corners of Deceit's room loom in his mind, and he shivers. 

"As long as it is with me, it has no time to bother you," Deceit murmurs. Virgil's face goes red and he looks down at his hands.

"I'm anxiety," Virgil says. "I'm used to it. Let me-"

"No," Deceit interrupts. "What if it grew again? What if it became its own-"

"We're back!" Patton says cheerfully, interrupting their conversation. He's attempting to balance a bowl brimming with popcorn and two plates full of cookies, brownies, and pretzels. Deceit wonders who likes pretzels among the other sides. He himself can't stand them. Logan follows him up with several cups arranged on a tray by color. Deceit sees a yellow one and his heart feels oddly warm.

"Patton thought hot chocolate with marshmallows would be appropriate," Logan says. "Can you hold your mug, Deceit?"

"Yes," Deceit says, although it takes some maneuvering and more pain than he'd like to admit to.

"You get to choose the first movie," Patton tells him.

" _Moana_ ," Deceit chooses at random, seeing everyone's expectant faces (and Virgil's frustrated one). He likes Tamatoa in this movie, though. "Shiny" is a masterpiece of theater.

"I love that movie," Roman says dreamily, as Logan puts it on.

"I love butts," Remus says, his words overlapping Roman's. Roman glares at his brother, shoving him, while Deceit hides a smirk.

"This conversation isn't over," Virgil hisses in his ear as the movie starts. Patton glances over at them, incurious, and Deceit tries very hard not to stiffen. _Don't look suspicious._

"I never thought it was," he murmurs back and settles in to enjoy the moment, as false as it may have felt.

Whatever happened later, at least he could have this.


	16. contemplation

Curled between Deceit and Logan, Virgil has a hard time concentrating on the movie. He likes it well enough- certainly more than some of the other Disney movies Roman likes to re-watch over and over- but his mind won't stop circling his earlier conversation with Deceit.

"You're thinking too hard," Deceit murmurs in his ear. Virgil flushes. "We'll talk later, all right?"

"Fine," Virgil agrees tightly, his voice so quiet Logan can't hear him, never mind the others. Maui sings "You're Welcome" on the TV screen, accompanied by Roman's theatrical sing-a-long. Remus seems to be making up his own signed version of the song. Virgil doesn't have the heart to tell Roman it's almost all profane gestures.

"Does Remus know actual sign language?" Logan asks in surprise.

"Yes," Deceit confirms. "Sometimes when his intrusive thoughts are particularly bad, it is easier for him to communicate in sign language. All of his thoughts don't just...pop out that way."

"Ah," Logan says. "Interesting."

"I know it from helping him," Virgil volunteers. "I'm uh, a little rusty, though." _Or maybe a lot rusty,_ Virgil thinks ruefully. It's not like he's had much cause to practice, not like he should. And really, he _should_ because sometimes his anxiety attacks make his throat tighten to the point he can't speak, and being able to communicate with his hands properly would help so much more than the half-assed pantomime he does now. But if none of the _other_ Light Sides understand it, then what's the point?

"I would like to learn it," Logan murmurs.

"Me, too!" Patton pipes up, from his place on Deceit's other side.

"I would be delighted to help you learn it at some point," Deceit says. "My ah- extra arms come in _handy_ there."

"You made a pun!" Patton squeals, clapping his hands and nearly upsetting the bowl of popcorn. Deceit groans. The twins don't even notice, Roman having finally realized what exactly Remus has been doing. Virgil hides a smirk behind one hand. 

It's almost enough to make him forget what's wrong with Deceit. The shadows. He knows what it means when the shadows grow long, falling over your room in broader shapes until it feels like everything's covered, you with it. Most of Thomas's high school years were spent that way, lying huddled in his bed with too-large headphones over his ears, blasting Panic! At The Disco or MCR, trying desperately to block out the thoughts swirling in his head. Deceit found him that way more times than he can count.

And he _left_. He left Deceit to the shadows that pulse when they shouldn't and the thoughts that never stop coming, the way your blood seems to sing under your skin, begging and itching to be set free.

Virgil swallows hard, a painful lump resting in his throat. _You didn't know that would happen,_ he argues with himself, but he knows he's not going to feel better. He shivers, suddenly cold despite the warmth of both Deceit and Logan next to him. Logan sends him an inquiring look and he tries to force a smile. It looks ghastly, but Logan seems to believe it anyway, turning back to the movie.

"What did I tell you about over-thinking?" Deceit murmurs, his breath tickling Virgil's ear. Yep, he noticed.

"I can't help it," Virgil mumbles.

"Just watch the movie," Deceit says, obviously exasperated. Patton leans over, peering into Virgil's face with a slight frown.

"You okay there, kiddo?" Patton asks. Virgil can feel his face heat up. Why does everyone have to _care_ so much? Oh, right, they had a two-part video accepting him, that's why. He wonders how Thomas is doing, with all the recent turmoil. Is he all right? He hasn't summoned anyone.

"Just thinking about Thomas," he says, conveniently leaving out everything else. Patton closes his eyes for a moment, concentrating.

"He's fine," Patton says, with a comforting smile. "Just a little worn out. He's watching _The Office_."

"Of course he is," Logan says.

"And _we're_ watching _Moana_ , stop talking," Roman complains. Virgil snickers.

All right, maybe he _can_ chill out for a few minutes. Especially when one of Deceit's bandaged arms snakes out and pulls him closer.


	17. depression? never heard of her

Several Disney movies later and everyone is either asleep or close to it. Roman's ended up sprawled out on the floor, Remus using his stomach for a makeshift pillow. Asleep, the Duke looks almost peaceful. Patton's a sleepy ball against Deceit and even Logan's eyelids are drooping.

Virgil, however, is still wide awake, and Deceit's not surprised.

"Time for that talk?" He asks, his voice pitched low. Virgil nods, easing himself off the couch and summoning a blanket to tuck around Logan so he doesn't notice the lack of warmth. He peers up at Virgil curiously, but doesn't seem to notice anything amiss.

It takes longer for Deceit to wiggle himself free. The wounds on his arms don't help and he can tell by the time he's stood up that some of them have re-opened. Virgil frowns at the pained grimace on his face and grabs one of his hands, tugging him forward.

"Where you going, kiddo?" Patton asks sleepily.

"Just a little chat with Deceit," Virgil says. It's not a lie, but his voice is light and comforting, enough that Deceit doesn't have to look back to know that Patton's fallen back into dreams.

"Let's go up here," Virgil says, guiding him up the stairs. He pauses on the landing. "Here's good."

"My room is blood-free now," Deceit says. "We could-"

"Not when we're talking about _it_ ," Virgil says. Deceit has to admit he has a point. "Besides, when we're done, it will be easier to go back to the living room. If we wake Roman up, he can summon up really nice beds."

"Don't wake Remus unless you want said beds to have god knows what features," Deceit says instantly. Virgil shudders.

"Oh, he can stay asleep," he says. "So uh-" He shoves his hands in his pockets. "Why didn't you tell me it was so bad?"

"You weren't exactly the most _welcoming_ of people, Virgil," Deceit murmurs, watching color bloom across Virgil's face like a sunrise. "You had left Remus and I, and you wanted to make your way with the others. Fair enough."

"Says the man who spent the next several videos dropping multiple hints I was hiding something," Virgil mutters, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"I did apologize," Deceit says quietly. Virgil sighs.

"You did," he acknowledges. "I'm sorry, too. I- You're an integral part of Thomas's personality. He needs you. I shouldn't have acted that way." 

Deceit swallows, his chest oddly tight.

"Thank you," he says. "That means- well, that means _nothing at all,_ of course." A half-smile tips Virgil's mouth.

"Of course," he says. "Deceit, has- has it been _really_ bad?"

"No," he tries to say, but the lie is bitter-soaked on his tongue. "Yes," he amends, in a bare whisper.

"I don't want it to be like high school," Virgil says, serious. "You were there for me, and that's great, but it was...it was pretty bad. And if it's like that for you _now_ , you shouldn't have to deal with that alone."

"You know," Deceit points out. "I _think_ Remus knows. I'm...never sure, with him. Isn't that enough?"

"No," Virgil says, and shakes his head. "I think _everyone_ should know. You deserve everyone's support, Deceit. Especially with shit like _this_."

"Why?" Deceit asks. He feels numb and wraps his arms around himself, heedless of the stinging. The hallway around them grows dark, and Virgil's eyes widen in barely suppressed panic. Deceit doesn't notice. "No one's ever cared before. I'm _fine_. I can handle it just _fine_."

 _Lies, lies, lies_ echoes in time with his heartbeat.

"That's not true," Virgil says softly. "And you know it."

"What would you know about whether or not it's true?" Deceit hisses. He can feel a maelstrom of emotion he can barely begin to identify, whirling to life inside him. His fists clench. "You weren't _there!_ " 

Virgil makes a tiny, wounded noise and guilt crashes into Deceit so hard he staggers when he sees the tears smudging Virgil's eyeshadow.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out. "I didn't- I"

"You're right," Virgil says thickly. "But you know what?" He steps closer, and the darkness seems to dissipate, if only a little.

"I'm here now," Virgil tells him.


	18. matters of the heart

It takes Patton several long moments in the morning to realize where he is. The sunlight seeping past his eyelashes is too bright and slanting from the wrong direction to be from his bedroom, and he can hear light snores and shifts of position all around him.

That places it. A Disney marathon. Everyone must have fallen asleep again. Roman's even conjured up beds, if the comfortably squashy surface underneath him is to be trusted. Patton sighs happily, rolling to one side and opening his eyes-

Coming face to face with Deceit. The other side, oblivious, sleeps on, all of his arms tucked up underneath a quilt. His hat is discarded to one side, letting Patton see that his hair is even unrulier than Virgil's. With his features lax in sleep, he looks surprisingly...small. When he would rise up like a dramatic Scooby Doo villain, he always appeared larger than life, a suave trickster decked out in yellow and festooned with snakes.

Now he seems like any other side, chest slowly rising and falling with each gentle breath. The tip of his tongue pokes between his teeth and Patton can barely contain his newly-awoken excitement when he realizes Deceit's tongue is forked. _Like a snake's!_ He thinks happily. The scales that cluster on one side of his face gleam gold and brown and green in the sunlight.

"Patton, are you awake?" Virgil whispers. Patton turns to see the anxious side peering at him through his own hair. Even in sleep, he's still wearing his hoodie, and he has his own purple-patched blanket pulled up to his neck.

"You butter believe it," Patton says, thinking of breakfast. Virgil makes a sound in his throat like a dying animal at the pun. Patton ignores it. "You think I should get started on breakfast, kiddo?"

"I'll help," Virgil says, scrambling out of bed as quietly as he dares. Patton glances around, ascertaining that the others are still fast asleep, and does the same, escaping to the sanctuary of the kitchen, where he can speak in at least a little more than a whisper.

"Do you know what Deceit likes?" Patton asks. Virgil turns to look at him in surprise. "It's his first proper breakfast with us," Patton explains. "I thought it would be nice to make something he would like. I'd ask what Remus likes, but it's just going to be deodorant, isn't it."

"Pretty much," Virgil says, with a laugh. He looks like he wants to say something else for a moment, then decides against it. "Uh- anyway, uh, Deceit likes waffles. Especially chocolate chip ones."

"I can make those!" Patton says warmly, rummaging around for the ingredients. Virgil fetches some of them and he always murmurs his gratitude to the yawning side.

"Virgil, do you need to go back to bed?" Patton finally asks. "It's all right if you do. I can finish breakfast myself, and keep it warm in here."

"Nah, I'm fine," Virgil says. "Deceit and I, uh, just had that talk I mentioned." Patton opens his mouth to ask what Virgil is talking about before the blurry memory floats to the surface of his mind.

"Are you two all right?" Patton asks. Virgil hesitates, and Patton ends up playing with the sleeves of his cat hoodie, waiting for the response.

"Not exactly," Virgil finally settles on saying. "But it isn't my place to talk about, it's Deceit's."

"I hope he feels safe enough to open up then," Patton says, just as the side in question slouches into the kitchen. He looks like a sleep-rumpled mess. He's left his hat back in the living room, but he's still wearing his cape, rather crumpled around the edges now. Exhaustion has bruised dark shadows under both of his eyes.

"What's my place to talk about?" Deceit asks. Well, more like _hisses_.

"You know what," Virgil says, tugging Deceit into a chair. "What we talked about last night." Deceit's eyes flash to Patton and he thinks he can see the first beginnings of panic in the other side's eyes.

"You didn't-" Deceit starts.

"Of course not," Virgil says sharply. "I wouldn't tell your secrets like that." By now, Patton is attending to the waffles automatically, his gaze swiveling between the two.

"I'm fine," Deceit says. Even Patton can tell that's a lie. And then it hits him, like an avalanche of empty Crofters jars, and he puts the serving plate down on the table, marching over to Deceit and plunking himself down in the next chair. Deceit eyes him in surprise.

"I have no idea what you and Virgil talked about," he starts. "So this isn't on him. But I can _guess_."

"I assure you, you _cannot_ ," Deceit says, but the peculiar emphasis suggests that he knows very well that perhaps Patton _can_ , and that the thought is terrifying.

"Deceit," Patton says gently. "Like we've been over in a previous video. I'm not just at the center of a lot of Thomas's happy feelings. I'm at the center of a lot of his _feelings_." He pauses, searching for the best way to put his intuition in words.

"Do you really think you're the only side who's dealt with depression?"


	19. it's like a therapy session

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...i'm mean to my baby

_Nope, nope, not doing this, nope_ \- He can tell that Virgil senses his intentions but before the anxious side can do more than lunge toward him, hand outstretched, Deceit sinks down, collapsing on the floor of his room. His stupid, damnable room that's connected to _them_ with only one short hallway. He scrambles up, locking the door just as Virgil thumps, full body, against it.

"Deceit, come _on_ ," Virgil says through the door. "It's okay. It will be okay." Deceit shakes his head in silent negation, so hard that his temples throb. His hands clench, itching to rip away the bandages and complete the job. 

Patton _knows_. Knows without him saying a word, and that's _terrifying_. He should have expected it- he never spent much time with Patton before, especially not when he was so busy comforting and calming Virgil- but Patton's right. He _is_ at the center of a lot of Thomas's feelings. It would be more surprising if he _hadn't_ ever dealt with depression. And hadn't Deceit been summoned not that long ago? Hadn't he _seen_ the scratches curling and twisting around Patton's arms?

He swallows. Virgil hasn't given up- he's still slamming against the door- but Deceit ignores him, staring at the doorknob like it's about to start dripping poison. (At least Remus isn't here, he thinks, or it might do just that.) The shadows behind him grow thicker, creeping up on him, swallowing him whole, but he doesn't notice, his thoughts spinning over and over again through Patton's confession.

"Deceit?" At first, he thinks Patton's voice is just a figment of his imagination, a phantom torment from his own memory. Then a hand touches his shoulder and he startles, hissing in shock.

"I'm sorry for coming into your room without permission," Patton says. Now that Deceit's turned around, his mouth sags. His room is dark, so dark he has to squint to see, and Patton's haloed in soft yellow light. It makes him look surprisingly angelic.

"It's _not_ all right," Deceit says shakily. "How did-"

"I'm not sure," Patton admits. "I just really, _really_ wanted to get to you."

"What do you want?" Deceit asks, his voice hoarse. "You- there's no need to pity me, I assure you." To his surprise, Patton laughs softly.

"I don't pity you," he says. "I never have. I-" He looks around. "I feel for you. I wasn't lying when I said that, you know." Almost against his will, Deceit nods. He'd tasted the sharp tang of truth. "It's not so bad now, but during Thomas's high school years, well. I wasn't feeling the greatest. I think that's when depression almost became a Side in its own right, but Logan would probably know more about that."

Deceit nods. Patton's thoughts parallel his own, after all.

"It can affect any of us," Patton says. "But we- we have each other."

"You don't _talk_ to each other," Deceit points out sharply. "I know _that_. I've talked to every last one of you enough."

"Not enough, no," Patton agrees amiably enough. "But we have the _option_. I want you to have the option, too. I know Virgil does. And the others. It was really fun last night, having you there. I liked that.

"I know talking to someone doesn't just fix it. It won't just go away. But that doesn't mean it can't get _better_. And I know that hiding it all away or pretending that you're fine doesn't make it better."

Deceit looks down at his trembling hands, then back up at Patton. Morality smiles encouragingly at him.

"Why don't you unlock the door?" He suggests. Deceit hesitates.

"You're- you aren't going to leave?" Deceit asks, hating himself for voicing the question. Why should he _care_? And Patton _should_ leave, besides, the others will wake up soon, if they aren't already, and he took Patton away from making breakfast...

But he really, really doesn't want him to leave.

"Of course not," Patton says. Deceit turns, facing the door, Patton a warm, steady presence at his back-

And unlocks the door.

Virgil nearly falls in face-first, his cheeks flushed and eyeshadow messy. He goes scarlet when he sees Patton, standing there un-mussed.

"How did you-" he splutters.

"Now, Virgil," Deceit says smoothly. "Just because _you_ didn't think of sinking into my room..."

Virgil glares, and Deceit feels his mouth twitch up in a tiny smile.

"Waffles await," Patton says cheerfully, leading Deceit out of his room. "Virgil said chocolate chip are your favorite."

"They are," Deceit says, surprised and oddly touched that Virgil remembered. Virgil gives him a look out of the corner of his eye, then quickly looks away, his face still bright red.

"Then let's go before Roman eats them all," Patton urges. Laughing, Deceit lets himself be led back to the kitchen.


	20. together breakfast

The others are already awake. Remus skulks around the kitchen, unsure if he's allowed to be there, hair mussed and mustache in disarray. He looks up when Patton, Deceit, and Virgil come into the room. Deceit looks surprisingly fragile, and Remus frowns.

"Do you want to sit down, Remus?" Patton asks. Surprise lighting his eyes, Remus silently drops into the free chair next to Roman, twisting his hands together so vigorously he can see Virgil wince. _What if I broke all my fingers?_ He thinks and has to bite his lip to keep from voicing the thought aloud. He's _trying_ to be good, damn it, even if it seems _impossible_.

Patton takes up waffle-making with a cheerful smile as Virgil and Deceit find their own seats. Deceit's face is flushed, even the scaly side, and his mismatched eyes keep tracking Patton. _What_ happened _?_ Remus wonders, knowing there's not a chance in hell that he'll get the chance to find out if Deceit doesn't want him to. He hopes that he does.

"You awoke early," Logan comments, barely looking up from his book. It's one of the Sherlock Holmes books. Remus wonders how he can stomach the complicated prose so early. Logan has a cup of coffee already at his elbow, steam erupting from the top. For a moment, Remus can picture knocking it over, splashing himself with the hot liquid, watching his skin redden and blister and- He blinks.

"Patton and Virgil were up before me," Deceit says.

"Not I," Roman declares, barely stifling a yawn. "A prince needs his beauty sleep."

"Oh, is _that_ why you're always taking naps?" Virgil inquires with faux sweetness, smirking at the indignant expression that flashes across Roman's face. Remus cackles, nearly falling off his chair, as his brother glares at him.

"Behave," Patton admonishes as he returns, sliding a plate of hot chocolate chip waffles in front of Deceit. Surprise and delight war for dominance on Deceit's face.

"Thank you, Patton," he murmurs.

"Hey, how come he gets his first?" Roman complains.

"The same reason I made his favorite breakfast food," Patton retorts. "Hey, Remus?" Startled, Remus's head jerks up. "Would you like any? I wasn't sure if you eat anything besides er- deodorant."

"Not really." Remus shrugs. "But I'll try them. They can't taste any worse than butts, right."

"Remus!" His twin groans. Remus just _grins_ , revealing the tiny gap in his front teeth, as Patton sets a plate down in front of him. It has two waffles, compared to Deceit's four, and he can see the chocolate chips have all melted.

"Thank you," he says, because he can be polite, too ~~when he wants to be~~.

"What are we gonna do today?" Virgil asks, propping his head up on one hand as he eats. Patton looks like he _wants_ to say something about it, but instead, he just looks down at his waffles.

"We should speak with Thomas about everything that has happened recently," Logan says. From the corner of his eye, Remus can see Deceit wince.

"We should talk about butts," he says, trying to keep everyone's attention on him, not Deceit. _Thank you,_ the snake-like side mouths to him.

"We should _not_ do that," Roman says, scowling at him. It doesn't look menacing at all when he's got a smear of chocolate on the side of his mouth, and Remus stifles a snicker, not wanting to tip his twin off.

"You're no fun," Remus says, with a dramatic pout.

"Virgil and I have something to talk about after breakfast," Deceit speaks up, his voice more of a hiss than usual.

"And me," Patton adds firmly. Deceit's eyes widen in near-comical surprise.

"And Patton, apparently," he adds shakily. Remus wonders if it has anything to do with a certain ill-concealed secret that even he's fallen prey to, more than once. Judging by the well-banked panic in Deceit's eyes, he thinks it is.

"Don't worry, Dee Dee," he sings out cheerfully. Deceit eyes him for a moment. When nothing else is forthcoming, he cracks a smile.

"Thanks, Remus," he murmurs.

"Logan, do you ever feel left out?" Roman asks, looking around the table. Logan looks up from his book.

"Not particularly," he says. "I trust the others will let us know when they are ready to talk about it. And they are apparently ready as soon as breakfast is over. Why feel left out?"

Roman's frustrated, muffled shriek is music to Remus's ears.


	21. the boogeyman unmasked

Deceit flushes as he tries to settle into a comfortable position on the couch, flanked by Virgil and Patton. Everyone's eyes are on him, unnerving him, until he feels Patton's fingers close around his own. He can feel the warmth of the other side's skin through his gloves.

 _Nothing like blurting it out, right?_ He thinks, swallowing. His scales pulse once, sharply, with pain.

"What is this all about?" Roman asks.

"Let him _talk_ and you'll find out," Remus snaps, uncharacteristic for him. Roman's eyes widen. Deceit fidgets, trying to figure out the best way to start.

"I'm not the only side who's dealt with this," Deceit begins. "But I suppose I've been the one most affected recently." He pauses. He can feel his heartbeat flutter against his rib cage, an unsteady rhythm as counterpoint to the gentle rubbing Patton's doing around his thumb.

"It's not a side," Deceit says carefully. "Not exactly. But it could have been. Especially when Thomas was a teenager. I-" He swallows. The truth is welling up, spilling out faster than he can keep up, and he wants to bite his lips shut, he wants Remus to _seal_ them shut, weld metal over his lips, affix the stickiest duct tape-

"Hey, would it be easier if I said it?" Virgil asks, peering into his eyes. Humiliated and all too aware of his own failures, Deceit nods weakly.

"Depression," Virgil says. "He's been dealing with depression. I used to. I kinda do. It's like half a side, it takes on a mind of its own sometimes, and, well." He hitches up one shoulder.

"It hurts," Patton says softly, making Roman jump. Logan just leans forward, attentive. "It whispers all your failures in your ear. It tells you that everyone hates you, that you're better off not- not being here. That no one wants you around."

"You know that's not true, right, Patton?" Roman says, just as softly. "We _do_ want you around."

"I know," Patton assures him. "But it- it likes to lie like that. I don't know if anyone else has ever dealt with it-"

"I think I have," Roman admits, with a grimace. "You uh, well, you heard me yesterday." Deceit remembers the bruises that clutter Roman's skin, painting him in violent sunset.

"I, too, have struggled with unseemly emotions," Logan says, pushing his glasses up his nose. "It is, in part, why I developed my love of baking."

"I struggle with jumping out of twenty story windows," Remus says brightly.

"This is why you aren't allowed around twenty-storied buildings," Deceit says, voice dry.

"So you- that's why-" Roman gestured helplessly at Deceit's still-bandaged arms. Deceit nods, throat tightening.

"It didn't help," he says.

"Say the rest, Dee Dee," Remus says, his voice too bright and insistent, his eyes pinning Deceit in place. "Tell them. _Tell them_ , snakey, or-"

"Remus, would you knock it the fuck off?" Virgil snaps. It is testament to how fraught the situation is spiraling into that Patton doesn't chide him for his language.

"You know I'm right," Remus says sullenly, wrapping his arms around his knees.

"What does he mean?" Logan asks. Deceit feels his breathing speed up, panic lapping at the shores of his mind. Virgil wraps one arm around his shoulders, and Patton inveigles an arm around his waist. Their touch grounds him, tethering him back to the sofa. Back to reality.

"It's _terrible_ that you all seem to want to spend time with me now," he says, taking refuge in double speak. His heart sounds very loud in his ears. "But only a _few days ago_ , you thought I was the _greatest_ Side. No matter what I did or didn't do."

"That's a lie," Remus says, scowling. "Not _all_."

"Not all," Virgil echoes quietly. "But I- I know it didn't feel like it. I'm sorry."

"Perhaps not all," Deceit concedes. "But you _don't_ understand what I mean."

"We have not treated you right," Logan concludes. "We have misrepresented your role to Thomas, as well, which we must apologize for. You are not wholly deceitful. You never have been. Thomas needs you." He looks around. " _We_ need you," he says.

"I know I already apologized yesterday, but I want to apologize again," Roman says, face flushed. "Even if I haven't always understood your place, you do, in fact, _have_ a place, and it's an important one. And you always, well, boost me up. Thank you."

"It is _not_ a pleasure," Deceit murmurs. "I can't say it's not _unpleasant_ to hear all of this, but-" He shakes his head. "I don't know. It's only been a day." He reflects on that for a moment in surprise. Has it really only been a day or so since all of this happened? Since his door linked itself to the Light Sides commons? It feels like it's been a year. They haven't even talked to Thomas about the changes yet!

"You need actions, too," Patton speaks up firmly. "Actions _and_ words."

"... _No_ ," Deceit says in surprise. "Thank you."

He looks around the living room- at Virgil's anxious face, Patton's welcoming eyes and untidy hair, Logan's glasses reflecting the sunlight, Roman's prim and pressed appearance contrasted to Remus's slovenly one- and smiles.

He knows what Patton says. That you can't spell family without "ILY."

Maybe you can't spell it without a little deceit in there, as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh i can't believe it's the end??? i finished something???
> 
> there will be a sequel tho! i can't give up the angst just yet ...and i wanna explore more with remus, he's a good trashy bean


End file.
